When the bands all cease to play
Have you ever seen the veterans
Parading through the street,
Have you ever heard the rhythm
Of their weary marching feet?
Have you ever heard the jingle
Of the medals on their chest,
When the bands all cease to play
And the pipers take their rest?
Have you stood and watched them
As down Martin Place they come,
Slowly marching to the beat
Of a lonely muffled drum?
Have you ever wondered why
The flags are at half staff,
Have you ever seen their faces
As they pass the cenotaph?
Have you ever caught a glimpse
Of the mist that fills their eyes
As they think about old friends
No longer by their sides?
Then have you seen them raise their heads
And march as in years gone by -
When the bands commence to play again
And the pipes their glory cry?
Here is the spirit of the Anzac
And on this hallowed day
Their friends come back to join them,
But in a special sort of way;
Because for every one you see,
Marching down the street,
There's a thousand there beside them -
But they march on silent feet.
For friendships forged in battle
Are of the rarest kind,
They extend beyond the grave
And withstand the tyranny of time.
So if you listen with your heart,
Come next Anzac Day,
Perhaps you will understand
Why they are marching on parade:
It is for that sacred moment;
That moment in the day -
When the pipers take their rest
And the bands all cease to play.
SOURCE:
Email, 7 Apr 2022
Vic Jefferies, St Huberts Island